Roller Derby

the lights have left the leaves, golden brilliance turned out like a  glowing candle quieted by the wind.   the leaves float and rustle, voices, too, carried by the breeze to this place atop a hill– a slanted receptacle for sound forcing it upwards  to my ears. I’m hidden–He’s not. I hear Him. He’s here.

This is just to say we could not eat the plums– they were so many pyramided together in plastic, hailing from casa de Costco where everything is sold in bulk. We could not eat the plums. unripe as they were– purple/black skins yielding to (very) firm yellow (oh! not sweet) flesh. We enlisted children, yea…

If you give a writer a journal She’ll probably say “thank you”    (exclamation point) And wonder where the nearest pen or pencil is. If she finds said pen, she’ll take to writing    A es a pee. Once she starts writing there’s no telling When she’ll stop—why    THINGS COULD HAPPEN. People would be…

Texas Sky April 2011     Thunderclouds are roiling on the horizon, stacking up East-wise, threatening to move in– move in and dump. But they’re whiter than white can be and only so much vapor. I imagine their rumbling high over distant mountains, molecules leaving mess and mayhem, headed this way. But there’s no running for…